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He swings his long legs around until his heels are on the table. Hearing Colin talking in the background, I see the joy in Lake's eyes, the joy in his smile. Not letting that deter me, I grip his bicep, reaching around his shoulder to grab the phone from him, to no avail.
He brushes me off again, so I pull on his ankle, but he places his heels beneath him, putting all of his weight on them. Standing on the table to get away from me, he chuckles at my attempts to claw for him, trying to jump and reach the phone.
“That's what I've been telling her,” he agrees with whatever Colin said. “O-okay, yep. We're just heading out now. Have a good day at work, bud. See you later tonight.”
He hangs up the phone, still holding it up in the sky. My nose wrinkles as I glare at him, panting from my weak attempt to overpower him.
See you later tonight? Now he's inviting himself over?
Taking in my anger, he has the audacity to smirk down at me. “You look like a little gremlin.”
I turn my head, glaring at the blank wall I wish to smash his face into.
“That was a nice spin move, though. You're quick on your feet, Crawford. Open tryouts are next spring if you're interested.”
I have nothing left I can say to insult this man. I can't overpower him physically, clearly, so I choose the childish route.
I grab for his pants and pull them down to his ankles, effectively de-pantsing him.
The second it happens, the door behind us creaks open.
Lake's standing on the massage table, my phone in his palm, raised to the ceiling, his pants to his ankles, and nothing but muscular thighs and boxer briefs before me.
My hands find his knee as I pretend to manipulate it before turning over my shoulder to peer at the guest who's walked in.
Greg.
I arch a brow at him, appearing bored as ever while my heart is on the verge of exploding through my puny little chest.My job. My career. Colin.
He simply looks from me to Lake and back in confusion. Then his expression fades into a mocking grin.
“Gotta wear those tear-aways, kid,” he says with a dry laugh, easing my mind.
Thank God. He doesn't know.
He gives me an excited smile, telling me he needs me in the office for a word. Backing out the way he came in, he leaves the room and my forehead meets the table while mocking laughter echoes around me.
42
Dylan
It'scold.
Too cold for November in Chicago.
I glance nervously over at Lake, who's sitting in the passenger seat of my tiny little compact car that feels like one of Colin's toy figurines at the moment, wondering why in the hell he insisted I drive us to his practice today.
In fact…
“Why am I even coming with you?” I ask suddenly, turning to glance at him before my eyes find the road again. “Since when are therapists essential for team practice?”
He sits there, relaxed as ever, in the seat that looks entirely too small for his long, muscular legs. After his quick shower at the gym, he changed into another matching black sweatsuit with a black Nike hat tossed casually on backwards, the tiniest hint of brown locks hanging through the snapback in front.
I try to hide the hearts in my eyes as I practically drool over the simple yet sexy look.Fucking snapbacks.
With his elbow on the edge of the panel beneath the window, he chews on his thumb as he peers at the road ahead of us. “Since you became part of my team.”
My brows lower in confusion at the sentiment. Before I can even process it, he points out the windshield, and in a deep, demanding tone, says, “There. Turn.”
